


Flowers On the Bed

by MissNaya



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Birthday Sex, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 05:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: Sure, Dick may have had to fight off intergalactic invaders on his birthday. But coming home to his lovers makes it all worth it in the end.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Clark Kent, Dick Grayson/Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 256





	Flowers On the Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SummerHaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerHaze/gifts).

> this is another (word I don't think I'm allowed to say on this site anymore but it starts with "cum" and ends with "ission")! a lot lighter than my usual fare, for a nice little breather. I hope you all enjoy!

Of all the days for the Justice League to get slammed with an intergalactic threat, it _ had _ to be Dick’s birthday.

He’s not upset, really. He knows duty comes before anything else. But it’s not exactly the most glamorous thing, flailing around in zero-g while you try your best to pummel a hoard of six-armed, googly-eyed little alien monsters.

By the end of it, Dick feels almost silly. He’d only been with the team because, well, he had plans with Bruce and Clark; he’s not used to fighting somewhere where he can’t effectively jump and flip and use his momentum to slam into his foes. You’d think the lack of gravity would help, but in reality, it just had him off-balance the entire time, and prone to a few embarrassing slip-ups.

“I told you,” he gasps against Bruce’s lips as they warp back from the Watchtower to the Batcave. “I had it under control.”

Bruce growls, claiming his mouth in another kiss. He hasn’t been able to let go since they wrapped up the incident and left J’onn and Diana to deal with transporting their felled foes to a secure prison outside of the galaxy. It’s a little rough, but in a way Dick recognizes by now is protective. Bruce and Clark had both seen him tangle with a particularly _ frisky _ alien, to the point where his suit was punctured. Were it not for Clark’s quick response, he’d have suffocated in the vacuum of space.

At least, that’s what Bruce seems to believe. Dick swears he’d have been fine. But he won’t object to a little extra “so glad you’re safe” affection, especially when he’s been craving it all day.

Next to them, Clark chuckles. “You’re hogging him, Bruce. I thought I was invited, not a third wheel.”

Bruce reluctantly breaks the kiss as Dick pushes his cowl off. “Sorry,” he grunts, and that in itself is a birthday miracle.

Clark’s smile crinkles the corners of his bright blue eyes. God, Dick loves that smile.

“For a kiss, all’s forgiven.”

Dick gives him his own coy little smile, lifting up on his toes to wrap an arm around Clark’s broad shoulders. “If that’s all it takes, consider it done.”

Clark’s lips cover his own, and Dick sighs against them. With one arm around Bruce and the other around Clark, he feels at home. Someone’s foot shifts forward, and Dick backs up, carefully stepping off the warp pad and into the cave proper.

A trail of accessories mark their path to Bruce’s computer chair. Clark’s cape, then Bruce’s cowl, then Dick’s mask, until, by the time Bruce sits down, he’s naked from the waist up. Bending forward to keep their lips attached, Dick steadies his hands on Bruce’s thighs. Behind him, Clark kisses his neck, dragging down the zipper on the back of his Nightwing uniform. Every new inch of skin gets another peck, trailing halfway down the length of his spine. Dick shivers, and Bruce swallows down his resulting moan.

“What would you like for your birthday, Dick?” Clark asks, lips tickling his sensitive lower back with every word.

With Bruce’s hand cupping his jaw, it’s difficult to find the ability to speak, but Dick eventually manages. “You two.”

He feels Clark smile before he hears it in his voice. “You already have us. Anything else?”

“Just wanna feel you,” Dick says, kissing across Bruce’s jaw. “Touch me. _ Anything._”

Bruce forces him by the chin into another brief kiss, then murmurs against his lips. “Kneel down. Clark, the drawer marked T-021. Get the—”

“I got it.”

In an instant, Clark is there and gone and back again. The sound of the metal filing cabinet shutting behind him doesn’t even reach them until half a second after Clark comes back.

Lowering to his knees between Bruce’s spread legs, Dick chuckles. “I swear you two can read each other’s minds.”

“Bruce is predictable,” Clark says, tugging Dick’s costume down until the gloves come off with the rest of his unitard, pooling at his waist. “Especially when it comes to you.”

Dick glances up just in time to see a dusting of pink appear on Bruce’s cheeks, much as he tries to pretend he isn’t flustered. Rather than fire back, he just tucks a strand of Dick’s hair behind his ear. His own little admission of guilt.

“Can you blame me?” he asks, as Clark’s fingers toy with Dick’s nipples.

“No, I suppose not. Especially not when he looks so good in them…”

Dick doesn’t have to ask to know what Clark means. A second later, he feels the cold metal of a clamp up against one nipple, and he sucks in a breath as Clark fastens it on. The sting is a pleasant one, less “after-fight burn” and more “icy-hot balm relaxing a wound.” The wound in this case, he figures, is his own touch-starvedness. He and Bruce sleep together often enough, but it feels like it’s been forever since Clark joined in.

Another strong hand clamps the second one to Dick’s other nipple, and the weight tugging at his chest tells him before he looks down just which set this is. Silver, diamond-encrusted and monogrammed (as is the Bruce Wayne way), with a length of chain connecting them, and a longer chain in the center of that. Dick rests his head on Bruce’s knee and sighs in pleasure; already, he can feel the day’s stress drain away, until he can hardly recall anything but Bruce and Clark’s touch.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Clark murmurs as he kisses a line across Dick’s bare shoulders. He passes the chain to Bruce so that he can trail both hands down Dick’s sides, making his stomach jump and flutter under the light touches.

Bruce’s fingers brush over his flushed face, pushing more dark strands of hair back. Dick preens under the attention, whimpering when Clark’s hands find the bulge at the front of his spandex. Occasionally, Clark’s tongue or teeth will dart out across the ridges of his vertebrae on the back of his neck, softer than anything, like he’s afraid he’ll break Dick apart if he isn’t careful.

Any other time, any other day, he might fire off a quip and tell the two of them to stop treating him so delicately. But today, after the experience they’ve had, he can’t bring himself to so much as say a word.

Besides. It _ is _ his birthday, after all.

Bruce knows just how to toy with the chain so that it puts the perfect amount of strain on Dick’s nipples. The metal jingles softly between them, an almost musical backdrop to their coupling (or would it be tripling?). Clark’s hands, which know him so well, stroke him through his pants, thumb skimming over the sensitive head with just a thin layer of spandex to keep them separate.

Eyelashes fluttering, Dick looks up at Bruce. Their eyes meet, deep, stone-like navy and sky blue, communicating a thousand things without saying a single word. Bruce tugs on the chain a little harder this time, and Clark gets the same message as Dick; his hands withdraw as Dick rises to his feet in one fluid motion, letting Bruce guide him into another passionate kiss.

It’s this kind of disparity that he loves, the jagged clamps on his nipples mixed with the soft tenderness of Bruce’s kiss. A love letter disguised as a length of metal. Bruce isn’t the talkative one out of the three of them, but what he lacks in verbosity he makes up for with every purse of his lips, every touch of his hand.

By the time they finally part, Dick is dazed to the point of panting.

“Upstairs?” he asks.

Bruce nods. Clark says, “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Clark scoops him up bridal-style into his arms, Bruce hovering close by with the chain wrapped around his palm. Dick tilts his head back, exposing his sensitive neck to an assault of Bruce’s teeth and tongue, rougher than Clark, but still softer than Batman has any right to be. It makes Dick’s head spin, thinking that _ he’s _ the one at the center of all their affections. No matter how often they do this, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it.

The elevator ride up out of the cave is, logically speaking, a quick one, but in Bruce and Clark’s arms, it feels like a lifetime. The best kind of lifetime, what Dick hopes the afterlife might be like: one drowsy eternity of kisses and soft breaths and little whispered nothings, like being lifted on a cloud and carried up, up, and away.

Bruce’s bed may as well be a cloud, itself. Bigger than a king with sheets silkier than Egyptian cotton, it’s one of Dick’s favorite places in the whole world to be. Even better when he’s sandwiched between Bruce and Clark, lying on his back while they crouch over him and pepper him with kisses.

He lifts his hips to let one of them — he’s not sure which, eyes closed blissfully — tug his spandex down and off. He’s going commando, naturally. They don’t call it a “birthday suit” for nothing. Already, he’s hard to the point of leaking, a bead of precum shining at the tip.

“So pretty,” Clark sighs, rubbing the tip again with his pointer finger. This time, skin to skin, it feels much better, pushing a sigh from Dick’s lungs. “You really are so lucky, Bruce.”

Bruce, kissing Dick’s temple and toying with the nipple clamps, grunts. “And what does that make you?”

Dick cracks his eyes open just in time to see Clark flash Bruce a boyish grin. “Feels like I’ve won the lottery, knowing the both of you.”

“Mmn, not the superpowers? Or the worldwide renown?” Dick asks, a lazy smile spread across his pink-tinged face.

“I’d give it all up if I had to,” Clark says, suddenly serious. “If it meant the two of you would be this happy all the time.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, but Dick and Clark both can tell it’s a nervous habit more than anything (and isn’t that just the funniest thing - the Batman, made nervous by a few sweet words). “You’re ridiculous, Boy Scout.”

“I mean it.” Clark smiles against Dick’s collarbone. “But enough about me. This is Dick’s special day.”

“Oh, Supes, you know just what to say to a guy,” Dick grins, arms looped around both their shoulders. He pulls Clark in for a kiss, squirming under his continued teasing little touches.

They fall into an easy silence after that, the room silent save for their occasional gasps and moans, and the clinking of the chains across Dick’s chest. Bruce opens and closes the clamps, always enough to give him just a second or two’s reprieve before the pressure comes back down. He can feel his nipples swell, dark pink and sensitive under Bruce’s torture. Clark breaks the kiss and starts to kiss down his body, stopping only to remove one clamp and temporarily replace it with his mouth.

Bruce captures Dick’s lips next, nostrils flaring as he presses close to him. He must have shed his pants sometime on the way up, because Dick can feel his hardened cock press against his thigh through little more than the cotton of his boxers. Clark, too, is bare from the waist up when he glances down, though he supposes that could happen easy enough in the blink of an eye.

Replacing the clamp, Clark continues kissing his way down Dick’s body, until finally, _ finally _ his breath ghosts over the tip of his cock. Dick breaks his kiss to look down, meeting Clark’s eyes as he swirls his pink tongue over his cockhead. Bruce has one arm around his shoulders, tapping him idly with his fingers when Dick whimpers.

“_Clark, _ ” he moans, hips writhing, hands clutching at Bruce’s back and Clark’s shoulder. He feels a sharp tug on the chain and gasps, and barely has time to whine out “_Bruce _” before his lips are captured in a kiss all over again.

Clark takes his time teasing him, smoothing a thumb over the head of his cock, licking up the precum gathered there, paying special attention to the place just underneath the head where he’s most sensitive. His cock, no, his whole body throbs with a need for their attention, their touch, their skilled hands taking him apart and putting him back together.

“Please,” he moans as soon as Bruce gives him a chance to breathe. Bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat, he squirms and arches his hips, Clark moving with him to keep just the tip in his mouth. “Please, please—”

“Clark,” Bruce warns. “It’s his birthday.”

Clark looks up with an almost uncharacteristically devious smile. And was that a wink, or is Dick going delirious from lust?

“Sorry.” He kisses Dick’s cock, a single little peck. “Just want to hear those noises as long as possible.”

“You’ll hear even more with this.” Bruce reaches over to his bedside table long enough to pull out a bottle of lube and toss it to him (still holding the leash, deliberately drawing another gasp from Dick as the clamps tug with every movement). “Remember what we talked about?”

Clark catches the bottle and uncaps it with a smile. “How could I forget?”

Puzzled, Dick looks between the two of them, but their faces give nothing away. He spreads his legs and resolves himself to trust them, as he always does; they’ve never led him astray before.

Clark slicks up his fingers, warming the lube in his hand, stroking a wet line down Dick’s perineum and circling around his entrance. At the same time, he takes his cock properly into his mouth, sinking down an inch or two while sucking until his cheeks hollow out.

Dick sinks back into the pillows, lashes fluttering. Bruce goes with him, kissing across his jaw, to his earlobe, then down to his neck, swirling his tongue over Dick’s pulse point as if he wants to feel just how fast his heart is beating. Like there was ever any doubt.

It’s like they really are telepathic, because the way Clark sinks a finger into him at the same time that Bruce nips his neck, it’s the perfect combination to draw a whimpering moan from Dick’s throat. Clark takes more of him into his mouth, not pacing himself for his own sake, but rather, to draw it out for Dick. Because when he finally sinks down all the way, he doesn’t choke, doesn’t even sputter; and he may be the Man of Steel, but his throat feels like drenched velvet against his cock, warm and tight and wet.

Then Clark quirks his finger up, and Dick truly sees stars.

His panting gets louder, filling the room with the sounds of his hot, ragged breaths, along with the slick sounds of Clark sucking him off and moving his finger in and out. Dick groans for more, and Clark obliges, sliding in a second finger, then a third. Bruce takes care of his upper body, undoing the clips so that he can lavish attention on Dick’s chest with his hands and mouth. After being together for so long, he knows exactly what to do to make Dick melt underneath him, nipples oversensitive from being squeezed so tight for so long.

“Oh, please. Oh, please please—” he gasps, grabbing at the sheets, toes curling as he arches his back as much as he can with two powerful men on top of him.

Bruce twists one nipple, sucks the other with a hint of teeth, Clark’s fingers rutting against his prostate perfectly on each and every upswing. He drools around Dick’s length, that little curl falling so perfectly over his forehead, and it’s too much, too much—

He grabs and holds onto both of his lovers as he comes, vision going white. Clark swallows him down without a second thought, milking him of what feels like everything in him and then some. The slow grind of fingers against his prostate makes Dick whimper long after his balls are empty.

What could be seconds or hours later, he grins up at them, pearly white teeth shining in that Hollywood star way. “Was that what you guys talked about?”

Clark chuckles. “Not quite.”

Bruce lifts his head, looking into Dick’s eyes. Again, he feels like they’re having a silent conversation, to the point where it almost feels like he only speaks for Clark’s benefit. “You’re not too tired to keep going, are you?”

Dick laughs, tossing his head back against the pillows. “Bruce, do you even know me at all?”

His libido is something of a legend, after all. For whatever reason, he’s never been as held back by a refractory period as others have. Chalk it up to expert training, or young adult hormones, or just a level of determination thus far undiscovered by anyone but those lucky enough to get in his spandex. Whatever the reason, he already feels himself getting riled up again, just looking at Bruce and Clark hard in their boxers.

“He’s got you there.” Clark wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, shimmying up the bed until his back is against the headboard. “Come here.”

Dick rolls over onto his stomach and kisses the bulge in Clark’s boxers. Now _ that, _ that’s Man of Steel material right there.

“Whatever you say, Big Blue.” He kisses it again, and again, giggling as he sways his ass back and forth. “Big, _ Big _ Blue…”

Clark goes red and sputters, but before Dick can keep tormenting him, Bruce wraps his arms around his chest and lifts him up. Now his cock is bare, Dick can feel it hot and hard against the small of his back. He rolls his hips against it, but Bruce tuts in his ear and pushes him toward Clark’s lap.

“Go. Face me.”

Dick does what he’s told, catching the tail end of Clark peeling off his boxers and tossing them off the side of the bed. He takes a seat, Clark’s cock between his legs, pressed up against his half-hard length.

“Ooh, what is this? Some new kind of present?” Dick asks, looking around the room like one might present itself to him.

Bruce steadies him with hands cupping his face. “Something like that. Relax, Dick.”

He leans forward to press their lips together, and, like a switch being flipped down, the little tension left in Dick’s body melts out. Clark’s hands skim up and down his inner thighs, giving him goosebumps and wiping them away just as quickly as they appear.

“Let us know if you want to stop,” he whispers into Dick’s ear.

Dick hums in assent, but can’t believe they’d ever do anything that would make him want to call it quits. If anything, his whole body is thrumming with anticipation, ready to take anything they can throw at him.

He hears the wet squelch of lube again, and when Clark lifts his hips, he feels the slick head of his cock pressed up against his hole. Clark is big, no doubt about that, but Dick relaxes his muscles and lets himself sink down, and the feeling of being filled up makes his brow crease and his heart flutter.

“Good, that’s it,” Clark whispers against his neck. “You’re doing so good for us. There you go…”

With Clark’s strength, it’s easy for him to lift Dick’s hips up and down, forcing more and more into him with every downswing. Dick stutters out a moan against Bruce’s lips, feels a bead of sweat run down his face, clinging to Bruce like a lifeline. Their mouths work together in perfect sync, and Bruce’s hands dip down from Dick’s face to his chest to get back to work on his swollen nipples. Each pinprick of pleasure makes his cock harder, his muscles looser, until eventually, he’s seated completely on Clark’s wide, punishing length.

“_This _ my present?” he asks, sweaty forehead pressed to Bruce’s.

“Impatient,” Bruce chides him. “We didn’t want to rush you into it. But if you really want to know…”

Dick nods, near-frantic with how badly he wants the two of them, anything they’ll give him. Bruce stops him with a chaste kiss.

“Lean back,” he says.

Dick obeys, and Clark helps him, sinking further back against the headboard with an arm looped around Dick’s chest. His other hand lifts Dick’s leg, and Bruce slots himself between them, fist pumping, knuckles bumping Dick’s balls as he slicks himself up.

It isn’t until Bruce’s cockhead nudges up against his hole that Dick realizes where this is going.

“Oh, god,” he sighs.

“You can still back out,” Clark reminds him. “If you—”

“Shut the hell up and fuck me, you big, dorky losers,” Dick says, turning his head to capture Clark’s lips in a kiss.

He feels Bruce exhale against his chin, and he knows that sound, knows the depths of the arousal hiding behind it. Something he’s become accustomed to after all his years with Bruce, another part of their secret language. He lets himself relax as much as he can as Bruce pushes forward, hooking one wet finger inside Dick to help himself along.

“Oh,” Dick gasps, brows knitted together. “_Oh. _Don’t stop.”

He turns to kiss Bruce, eyes slitted to catch the intense expression on Bruce’s face. His forehead creased in concentration, nostrils flaring, usually carefully slicked-back hair falling messy across his face. He’s fucking incredible. _ Both _ of them are.

Bruce carefully works his way in, inch by inch, stretching Dick out further than he ever thought possible — and as a double-jointed circus acrobat, that’s saying something. It’s a good stretch, though, not unlike the pleasure-pain of the nipple clamps. A burn, a workout, but one that’s far more rewarding than it could ever be painful.

Clark doesn’t start to move until after Bruce has settled in as deep as he can go. He pats Dick’s side as if asking for permission, and, granting it, Dick turns to kiss him again. Wishes he had two heads, so he could kiss the two of them properly at once, but for now, this will have to do, their mouths all ghosting across each other, a little triangle of hot breath and sweat-slick noses bumping together.

When Clark starts to rock his hips, Bruce following suit, Dick really comes undone. He almost _ wails, _ stretched to his limit around them, wanting nothing more than to keep them both inside him, around him like this, surrounded by their affection and filled with undeniable proof of the effect he has on them.

Like this, every little motion presses hard against his prostate. His cock leaks clear fluid down his shaft, twitching, Dick digging his nails into Bruce, or maybe Clark, he doesn’t know anymore — all he knows is that he’s exactly where he needs to be, safe with the two of them, home and loved.

The second time around, he can’t hold out nearly as long. His lovers swallow up his helpless moans, fucking him through his second orgasm, this one so strong that his head swims like he’s drowning. Bruce jerks his cock through it, hips snapping, teeth bared, growling as he chases his own release. Dick wishes he could do more than moan, because then maybe he could tell them both how wonderful they are, how much he loves them, how he never wants this moment to end.

But, by the time Clark groans and fucks his own load of cum up into Dick’s over-full ass, the complexities of language are far beyond him. Far beyond any of them, he’d wager.

As they lower him down between the two of them, staying inside him even as their cocks get soft, they do, at least, manage a few words.

“Good birthday?” Bruce asks.

“Good birthday,” Dick confirms, breathless.

Clark smiles against the back of his neck. “Happy birthday, Dick.”


End file.
